Happiness is a warm (pork-filled) bun

JB Garden (Greenwood). It's OK, acceptable quality for the price, as well as the convenience of having another Chinese place in Greenwood. A baked BBQ pork bao, order of 4 shu mai & a hom sui gok is under $4. The shu mai is possibly made on-site.

JB Garden's chow mein is the minimalist dim sum kind, not the fixins-heavy dinner kind. If you want the latter, you go to Mandarin Gate or Yen Wor anyway.

The one thing that could have been better was that everything -- even the 'hot' tea -- could have been much warmer.

No shrimp items.
Cash only.
Tables: 2 sets of 2.
Plastic utensils (forks).

Not Diggity

A friendly word to the crew at the 85th Street Deli/Slum City Hot Dogs (Greenwood): Canned chili and old pre-grated cheddar is enough to put one off chili dogs for eternity.

Here's a really good, easy Texas chili recipe that will keep me coming back; feel free to use ground beef instead of cubed chuck roast.

Real Texas Chili
(modified from America's Test Kitchen)

3 lbs chuck roast, cut in 1/2 inch cubes
3 strips of bacon (or bacon fat)
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 TBS chili powder (or toast 3-4 chili pods and grind in food processor, make paste with a little water before adding)
1 tsp salt
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp oregano
5-6 cups water
1/4 cup Masa Harina (make paste with some water)

In enameled pot or dutch oven, brown meat in bacon fat; remove. Saute garlic, then add herbs followed by chili powder paste. Add back meat, then add water. Cover and simmer in 250 degree oven for at least 2 hours. Optional: 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes; 14-1/2 oz can of kidney beans. Thicken: Add Masa Harina paste gradually by spoonful; simmer for 30 more minutes.

I do give you 4 thumbs up, though, for roasting the 'dogs when they are ordered, instead of letting them sit in hot water for hours.


Update:  85th Street Deli has since shuttered.

I think they forgot something

As noted previously, Thai food has a fairly small basic ingredient set. Perhaps the most important of these is basil.

The basic stir fry with basil, peppers, onion and meat is called a kra pao, or on English-speaker-friendly menus, ‘Thai basil.’ I always order it because it's my favorite, but because it's a good dish with which to gauge the quality of a Thai restaurant. It allows me to focus on how well it is prepared, rather than wondering what's in it.

Really, I'm doing them a favor. Thai basil should be foolproof.

Thai Herbs (Downtown), a hole in the wall catering to the office worker demographic, manages to get it wrong. On a recent visit I ordered the beef version of Thai basil. What the cook came up with was acceptable lunch fare, but should more properly be labeled 'beef stir fry.'

It contained only 3 or 4 tiny slivers of basil. I've had more basil in dishes that weren't supposed to have basil in them.

A cheap cut of beef is fine, but it has to be sliced thin -- otherwise it takes too long to cook, and comes out tough.

The vegetables were cooked perfectly, sauteed onion and bell pepper, and green beans still crisp. But because they were not overcooked, it doesn't explain the origin of the extra water in the too-thin sauce. I suspect sauce prepared in advance, instead of created in the wok with the rest of the dish.

There are plenty of Thai restaurants in Seattle charging what Thai Herbs charges, yet they deliver a far superior product.

"Show us your Tat's"

That's what it says on the official t-shirts at Tat's Deli (Pioneer Square), direct all complaints to them.

Since the cheesesteak place in Pike Place closed I've been looking for another joint serving good Philly-style cheesesteaks. Yes, I've tried Philadelphia Fevre (East Madison). But those are not cheesesteaks so much as chipped dried beef-like food product, dipped briefly in warm broth. Sorry, but that's how I feel.

I think I've finally found cheesesteak heaven, and I've seen it's Tat's.

I always get the 8-inch with provolone and hot peppers ($7; you can also get a 12-incher, as well as a t-shirt that announces that preference to the world; again, don't send your complaints to me). It comes on a split french roll, filled with a generous portion of moist, perfectly seasoned beef and peppers mixed in.

The first time I was there, the counter guy tried to talk me into ordering my cheesesteak with ketchup. "It's real goooood," he promised. Don't fall for it! I've been to South Philly, I've had a real South Philly steak sandwich, and you sir are no -- that is, no one ever offered me ketchup. If you want tangy, that's what the peppers are for.

Upgrade to an order of fries and a can of pop for just $2.

Warning: the lunch line is often out the door between 11:30 and 12:30.

Update: Tat's has moved to the Interurban Building on Yesler, across from the Sinking Ship garage.

Thai Civil War

The reality of many restaurants with ethnic menus is that a lot of the dishes are variations on a core of basic ingredients. The exceptional restaurant knows how to take those basics and vary them in interesting ways. The standard restaurant fails to innovate and just exists in time and space.

A prime example of this contrast is currently on display in a little Thai civil war going on near Pioneer Square. In one corner: upstart Thai 65 (93 Marion, $7.50-$9.50). In the other corner, your returning champion, cube worker fave Mae Phim (94 Columbia, everything $5.99).

These establishments are on opposite sides of the venerable Colman Building (which also houses the two Irish pubs Fadó and Owl & Thistle -- Fadó on First Avenue, Owl on the Post Alley side).

The basic ingredient set for Thai food is rice noodles, the sweet sauce, chilis, a vegetable assortment, meat or tofu, coconut milk (when called for), and BASIL.

Yet in terms of the final product Thai 65 and Mae Phim are light years apart.

Mae Phim (foam takeouts)

I've had a few dishes from Mae Phim (but not the soup), and what stands out is that nothing stands out. It all tastes the same -- and not in a good way. The way it's supposed to taste is stir-fried, but the way Mae Phim does it, it comes out tasting braised.

That is: simmered. As a result the flavor lacks the desired taste accompaniment to the sizzle you hear when Thai food is cooked right.

Other quibbles: too much coconut milk transforms braised into bland; small portions on top of a big pile of rice fools you into thinking you're getting more.

And perhaps the biggest sin -- not spicy enough. On the familiar 1-to-5 stars of Thai hotness, 3 is usually on the fence between medium-hot and almost-too-much. Mae Phim's 3 stars is a 1 everywhere else.

Thai 65 (paper takeouts)

On the other hand, Thai 65 is everything Mae Phim is not (and never was). Take a bite of cashew chicken or kra pao and and there it is -- the stir-fry zip and noticeable differentiation of flavors, even though you know both contain many of those same basic ingredients. The flavors are wok-fresh, whereas Mae Phim smacks of pre-cooking.

Especially good is the orange chicken -- not just sliced chicken in syrup, but breaded white meat, delicately soft on the outside, not hard and crusty. The orange sauce does not overpower.

Finally, a tip: Thai 65's hotness scale has a 1 handicap; a 3 is what every other Thai place calls a 4. So be warned.

Mae Phim est mort. Vive le Thai 65.

A brief affair

Well that was over quickly. For a while, things were going hot and heavy between people in my office and Jimmy John's (Downtown, Pioneer Square), a variation on the Subway/Quiznos formula.

A coworker came back from lunch one day raving about a new sandwich place, and shortly thereafter everybody in the office was Jimmy John's this / Jimmy John's that.

One must admit that Jimmy John's operation is built for convenience and speed. You order at the register, and there's no tedious relaying of information to the sandwich making line, because the first station is right at the cashier's elbow. Your order is already halfway done by the time you finish paying, and when you get to the pickup spot, it is done.

One time I could swear a time paradox occurred, and the sandwich was ready before I ordered.

All sandwiches come on fresh, chewy bread, and they'll make any of the 8-inch subs in a "Slim" version, basic meat and/or cheese only.

They even do free & friendly delivery, which is great for when you're on a gawd-awful deadline.

The thing is -- they only have one-and-a-half good things on the menu for under $5: The Vito, and it's lighter version, the Slim #5. The Vito is an Italian-style sub with salami, cheese, and oil-vinegar dressing, and hot peppers on request. It's good, and it's the only thing on the menu I ever seemed to order.

The love affair ended when I tried the other 8-inch subs. The roast beef, the turkey, the ham, the tuna -- all disappoint in the skimpiness of their contents.

One-hit wonders go away for a reason. Today, no one at work goes to Jimmy John's.

Reuben From Space

Warm pickled cabbage. Why would anyone want to eat anything that sounded like warm pickled cabbage?

Yet in the guise of sauerkraut it is a major ingredient in the reuben sandwich, one of my favorite diner/cafe items, and it has been my quest to try every reuben in Seattle.

It's very difficult to do a reuben badly. Can you grill corned beef? Do you have cheese? Then put it on rye bread with thousand island and the aforementioned sauerkraut. Butter the outside, grill that. By then the cheese is melted, and you're done. Cut in half and serve.

That said, it is therefore not only amazing that Chez Dominique (West Edge) does a bad reuben, but just how badly they do it.

Who makes the Chez Dominique reuben, an obsessive-compulsive engineer? Maybe one formerly employed in the German automotive industry? Who was fired for being too precise?

Because the Chez Dominique reuben is efficiently compact, all the edges are parallel inside and out, all the angles 90 degrees.

It is a reuben they might package for NASA, or any environment where you don't want crumbs floating off and getting into the space station equipment. This reuben is fully ISO9000 compliant.

Certainly some space-age system was used to heat, barely, the corned beef. It did not taste or appear grilled or fried. Maybe it was synthesized in a replicator.

The slice of white 'cheese' was also perfectly square even though slightly melted. It tasted... Swiss-y. I'm sure it will come in handy to seal hull breaches and spacesuit punctures. Or reattaching heat shield tiles.

The rye bread was dry on the outside, but toasted using some process that did not involve browning.

At least the sauerkraut was good.

All in all, I'd have to say the Chez Dominique reuben is bland, unimaginative, and fails to impart any joy when consumed. But it is perfect for tucking into your kid's jet pack for lunchtime at the space academy.

Heresy

I would never say the burgers at Red Mill (Phinney Ridge, Interbay) are bad. They're just standard.

One doesn't have to do much evaluation since, as a concept, the burger has few components:

The bun. Red Mill's are of the standard Franz/Langendorf variety. Has Red Mill never heard of the Essential Baking Company? Or Kaiser? Sprechen Sie Deutsche?

The lettuce. No iceberg for Red Mill. But the leaf lettuce that adorns its buns is usually wilty.

The tomato. It's a tomato, anyone can get them. Thanks to diesel we can get beefsteaks in all their mealy glory even in dead of winter.

The sauce. OK, the Mill Sauce is pretty good. I use a dash of Liquid Smoke when I make burger sauce at home; I wonnnnnder what the Mill does.

The patty. This is the crucial part, the burger in the hamburger. And Red Mill always overcooks theirs -- as in not a hint of pink. There's that word again; standard.

Even Red Mill's pomme frites, the all-important accompaniment to the above, are from the freezer. And while Red Mill's onion ring option is really excellent, honestly, top-notch, you never get enough of them. And the secret is hushpuppy mix.

All in all, the Red Mill burger is tasty and filling, but just not worth waiting for in a line that often stretches out the door. So I don't.

OK, burger heretic, you're probably saying, where does one get what you consider a good hamburger?

I submit there is not just one place, but an entire class of establishment where such an item can usually be found: the pub. I'll name two.

I give you: Fadó (Pioneer Square), an extremely Irish pub. Their "Bacon Cheeseburger Mór" is cooked to order, and I get mine medium so it arrives juicy and still sorta pink in the middle. The fries are thick-cut. Top it off with a pint of Guinness -- or a "Velveteen," i.e. cider floated on Guinness -- and what could be better?

Finally, I'll steer you in the direction of Dad Watson's (Fremont), part of the McMenamin's chain. I don't mean the cheeseburger on the menu, which is standard. You need to look at the specials, where Dad has featured a series of "Stuffed Burgers" to delight the palate. Stuffed with cheese, tomatoes, onions -- it matters not what. It's all good. Plus, you can get either the giant basket of fresh cut fries or TATER TOTS.

And so, burger lovers, I bid thee go forth and pub.


Update: McMenamin's has closed the Fremont Dad Watson's location, and announced plans to reopen it in the University District).